


Heroes and Villains: Of Dinner and Dancing

by irishlullaby13



Series: Heroes and Villains [10]
Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-10 09:34:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12909198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishlullaby13/pseuds/irishlullaby13
Summary: The Captain and the Siren are stuck in the hotel because of rain.  What could they possibly do to pass the time??





	1. Chapter 1

It had been storming for the past few days. Something about a tropical storm, Abbie wasn't exactly paying attention to the news that morning. Mostly because it was hard to pay attention to the news when you had a very eager mouth between your legs.

However, at the moment, the Captain was in the kitchenette singing along to some opera. She was standing next to the balcony door, watching the downpour. She wanted to go out dancing. But not in this weather.

And it was only going to get worse, if she remembered correctly. 

A smile pulled at her lips as she heard the Captain reach the climax in the crescendo. She wasn't normally a fan of opera, but he certainly had a flair for it. Abbie chuckled when his voice cracked and he coughed. Okay, so maybe he didn't have a gift for it after all.

A few minutes later the music stopped and the Captain came from the kitchen bearing two plates. 

“Lunch is served…” he announced, puffing out his chest proudly. “More local delights made in the comfort of our temporary accommodations.”

Abbie made her way to the table and had a seat. 

“Oh, what recipe did the little old ladies foist onto you this time?”

He set down the plates and gave a wide swipe of his hand. 

“An absolutely divine sancocho with Jasmine rice, fried plantains, and…” he scurried from the dining area and back to the kitchen and returned a moment later with two tall glasses filled with a light coloured drink and decorated with a bright yellow flower “... and fresh morir soñando.”

Abbie shook her head and grinned down at her plate. 

“You're going to have me so damn spoiled by the end of this trip.” She looked up at him as he captured the seat at the same corner as her. 

“One can only hope,” he said softly.

With a wistful sigh, Abbie tucked into the meal. 

“Oh. This is good,” she moaned softly. “Seriously, Captain, you've outdone yourself on this. You keep surprising me with all these flavorful dishes.”

“Though not something to brag about,” Ichabod said with a tiny flip of his hair. “The British Empire _did_ spend vast amounts of time colonizing many regions for their spices and resources.”

“Too soon, Cap,” Abbie intoned. Her eyes flittered to the balcony door. She sighed heavily then went back to her food.

“A penny for your thoughts?” The Captain asked gently, tilting his head as he studied her. “Although I fear for a woman of your caliber, your thoughts would surely be priceless.”

Abbie smiled. 

“I was just thinking it would be nice to go dancing if all this rain wasn't keeping us in.”

The Captain glanced at the gloomy skies and nodded. 

“Agreed. Dancing would prove to be a most delightful activity this evening.”

“Oh, so you can dance?” Abbie teased. “Like, modern dancing?”

His eyes twinkled in amusement. 

“I shall have you know, in my day I was a most avid dancer. Always eager to learn the newest dance trend. My approach to this modern era is none too different.” He sat a little straighter in his seat. “Besides, I do enjoy Dancing with the Stars.”

“So where did you get this skill of cooking? I mean, something tells me it's not a recent development,” Abbie commented.

He was quiet for a long moment. 

“I used to sneak into the kitchens,” he finally said quietly. “As a boy. The maids and the servants tried feeding me, of course, because who could deny this adorable face…” Abbie snorted lightly when he indicated his own face. 

“I used to watch them for hours at a time,” he continued. “Asking questions and just generally being curious about the entire process. One particular woman offered to show me how to cook.

“I would always sneak away, late at night, and she would tell me about all of the gossip about town, she would talk about her son--who would have been my age… and she'd talk me through the steps for whatever practice dish she was having me make. It was one of the most memorable moments of my childhood.”

A darkness entered his eyes and he sighed heavily. Abbie wondered what happened to cause his happy memory to come to an end. She reached over and placed a hand on his. He gave her a gentle smile, then turned his hand over to grasp her fingers.

“My father found out and was none too pleased,” Ichabod said. “But I refused to surrender the name of the woman who was teaching me. It only served to infuriate him more. She turned herself in, hoping Father would have mercy upon me. She was dismissed. I saw her a few more times over the years. She ended up doing quite well for herself. Married a very nice nobleman who was good friends with my father.”

“That's good at least, I guess,” Abbie said with a small shrug. “For what it's worth… you didn't deserve what your dad did.”

“I know,” the Captain whispered. “Anyway… once I awoke in this era… since I spent a vast amount of time alone at the manor, I took up cooking again. I find it quite enjoyable.”

Abbie smirked and leaned close to the Captain. His eyes widened and his pupils dilated. 

“So does this mean no more evil plotting from you? Your redemption arc ends with you starting your journey to becoming the next iron chef?”

A smile slowly crept back to the Captain's lips. He hesitated for a moment before responding with a saucy, “I think there are more enjoyable activities the two of us can partake in for the foreseeable future.”

Warmth touched Abbie's cheeks and she looked away and put her attention on the food. 

“Wow, this is delicious, have I told you that yet? ‘Cause it's absolutely delicious.”

They ate in silence, their hands still clasped. It was the captain who finally broke the spell. 

“What sort of dancing did you have in mind?” He asked.

Abbie blinked at him in confusion then remembered she had wanted to go dancing. 

“I don't know. No particular type. Maybe not clubbing type dancing. Maybe just putting on a nice dress and mostly listening to slow songs. Maybe just kinda dance with myself unless I have a willing partner.”

His brows arched wickedly as he smirked. 

“I would most certainly be willing.”

Afterward, the two of them worked together to get the dishes cleaned and the leftovers put away. Abbie eyed the storm again and sighed. 

“I'm gonna go take a nap. This rain and that food have made me tired.”

“I shall go and see about rustling up some fresh towels and bedding for the morning,” the Captain said. 

Abbie nodded and retreated to the bed. She stripped down slowly before sliding between the sheets. Unfortunately the Captain was nowhere in sight so her small tease had gone unnoticed.

An indeterminate amount of time later, Abbie awoke to soft kisses between her shoulders. 

“Wake up,” she heard the Captain softly croon. She hummed softly and he kissed the back of her neck.

Abbie blinked awake and squeezed her thighs together as she felt a lusty pang.

“We're going to be late.”

“Hmm? Late? For what?” Abbie asked sleepily, turning over to face the Captain. She stared at him for a moment then realized he was wearing a suit. An actual modern suit. A small smile pulled at her lips at the grey plaid trousers and waistcoat paired with a purple and white plaid Oxford shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a yellow silk tie. “What's this?” 

Abbie swept her hand to indicate his attire. The captain caught her fingers and kissed them. 

“That would ruin the surprise.”

Sitting up, Abbie looked around in confusion.

“I took liberties to find you a dress that was appropriate,” he stated, tentatively holding a bag out to her.

“How long do I have to get ready?” she asked carefully.

“An hour,” he beamed, then leaned in and brushed his lips over hers. “I shall return at that time. I must go make some finishing preparations.”

“What's…” she started but he lightly pressed his finger to her lips.

“A surprise,” he said softly. “An hour.”

With that he hurried down the steps that separated the sleep and lounging area. She heard the entry door close and shook her head. What the Hell?

She opened the bag and peered in. She pulled out a shoebox then reached back in to pull out a silky dress. Abbie held it up for inspection and arched her brows. 

“Alright, Captain, just this once your liberties are forgiven.”

With a grin, Abbie hopped out of bed to go start getting ready.


	2. Chapter 2

Ichabod paused a moment and stared at the bathroom door. On the other side was his beloved Siren, singing contentedly with her playlist.

_\--how to love my haters  
My sister told me I should speak my mind  
My man he make feel so God damn fine  
I'm flawless!_

It was with much regret that he lightly knocked on the door. He heard his Siren swear and the music shut off. 

“ _Just a second, almost done_ ,” she called.

Not even a minute later the door opened and the Siren stepped out of the bathroom, the very picture of a modern goddess. She was so divine he found himself breathless as he stared.

She tucked her bouncy curls behind her ear and smiled shyly. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

The lilac dress hugged her curves beautifully and flared out softly at the thighs with a flirty ruffled edge. He had vastly underestimated just how much cleavage she would have on display with the sweetheart neckline. Not that he was going to complain.

Ichabod blinked and shook his head to clear it. 

“You look… sublime,” he said softly. 

The Siren herself looked struck with surprise. 

“Oh,” she yelped. “Well… Thanks.” 

Before she could offer some qualifying factor to take away from the fact he found her completely awe-inspiring, Ichabod offered her his arm. 

“Shall we?”

She grinned and slipped her hands into the bend of his elbow. 

“Sure, but I am curious about where we could possibly go in this storm and what place would be open right now.”

He gave her a smile he hoped was enigmatic--judging by her response he was successful--and led her toward the door. 

“My darling Siren,” he said. “Do you really think I would go through all the trouble to make this a surprise and spoil it mere minutes before the reveal?”

“A girl can hope,” she responded with a bright smile as he escorted her to the elevator.

It was her turn to fidget nervously and if there was one thing Ichabod had discovered, it was that he loved making her squirm. 

“I assure you, whilst my plot is quite devious in nature, no harm shall befall you.”

His lover looked up at him, a beautiful twisted smile on her maroon-painted lips. 

_His lover._

Ichabod's heart skipped several beats. He had lived 250 years. He had defied all logical explanation and awoken in this modern era. He had seen and studied scientific advances that would have been unimaginable in his era.

But all of those things paled in comparison to the thought that the beautiful, petite woman on his arm was _his lover._ To feel a wanting that defied all propriety and then to have the object of his desire willingly sharing his bed--not that he would have had it any other way. 

That was truly a miracle that had no explanation.

Everyone in his life, from the past to the present, had made it obvious he was nothing more than an annoyance that needed to stay out of the way. 

Of course there were a few exceptions; Misses Carol and Latisha, their delightful daughter Melody, Joseph Corbin, and--dare he say it--Miss Jenny. But they were all his _friends_. At times he felt like they were his family. His _true_ family.

And then there was his Siren. 

His beautiful, intelligent, fiercely passionate, and sardonic Siren. It was as though God Himself had crafted his vision of feminine perfection and delivered him to her arms.

To be honest, he felt like the Siren got the worse end of the deal. He got her, perfection at its most perfect. She got… him. He could honestly understand her hesitation. He'd have doubts too, in her shoes.

When they reached the lobby floor, he escorted her toward one of the smaller convention rooms. The desk clerk gave them a happy wave and called, “Have fun!”

The Siren cast him a suspicious glare. 

When he pushed the door open to the room, he heard the Siren suck in a sharp breath. 

“Oh, my g--what is this?” 

Ichabod puffed out his chest with pride. He had spent the last few hours convincing the manager to let him rent the small convention room. He had enlisted helpers to string lights and set up the perfect space for him to take his Siren dancing. 

He had even managed to convince a few guests who were similarly bored and confined by the weather to attend. They were already dancing to the music, laughing, and having a good time. A few of the staff also lingered to enjoy themselves as the downpour was too heavy for them to justify braving the storm.

“You wished to go dancing,” he stated. “And as the weather prevented you going to a space for dancing, I brought a space for dancing to you.”

The Siren looked up at him, tears brimming in her eyes. 

“This is… the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me,” she said quietly.

It was Ichabod's turn to be perplexed. No one had ever done something as simple as this to see her smile? Surely she had no end to the amount of ladies and gentlemen vying for her affections…

Instead of delving into her romantic involvements aside from himself, Ichabod took her hand and bowed over it. 

“If I may, my lady, could I ask for a dance?”

“You can have as many dances as you want,” the Siren said softly.

He dared not tell her that he wanted all of the dances. When it came to her, he knew himself to be an exceptionally greedy man. He wanted her. He wanted _all_ of her. He craved her touch. He needed it. He wanted to be as close as he could possibly get.

Ichabod escorted her to the dance floor and, just as Misses Carol and Latisha had shown him, he guided one of the Siren’s hands to his shoulder and clasped her other gently. Her brows arched with amusement.

“So he _does_ know how to dance in the modern sense,” she teased. 

They swayed lazily to the end of the current tune. Ichabod tilted his head slightly as the next tune started. 

“Oh,” he cooed. “One of my personal favourites.”

After a moment Lauryn Hill’s ethereal, velvet voice began to sing. Ichabod smiled and leaned close to the Siren's ear to softly croon. 

“You're just too good to be true. I can't take my eyes off of you. You'd be like heaven to touch…”

The Siren pulled back, grinning brightly. 

“A personal favourite? How the hell did you stumble on to Lauryn Hill,” she asked. 

“My dear friends Carol and Latisha, along with young Melody, came to prepare Sunday lunch,” Ichabod explained. “They enjoy listening to a wide variety of music. Miss Hill is among the many artists they play. I am aware of numerous versions of the song, but I find Miss Hill's version to be the most appealing. It's subtle and captivating. It's soft and vulnerable. Playful but it grasps your soul in a desperate plea for reciprocated love.”

The Siren looked away for a moment then curled herself close to his chest, resting her cheek over his rapidly beating heart. Ichabod wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin atop her head. 

“This is exactly what I had in mind when I said I wanted to go dancing,” the Siren said softly.

Ichabod tilted her chin up so he could look down into her beautiful dark eyes. 

_I need you baby  
And if it's quite alright  
I need you baby  
To warm the lonely nights  
I love you baby_

He tucked her hair behind her ear and stroked her cheek. 

“Whatever you desire is yours, my beautiful Siren.”

Her fingers crept up to grasp the collar of his shirt. She stood on her toes as she dragged his mouth down to hers. 

For the rest of the dance, Ichabod felt like he had ascended to a higher state of consciousness. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her feet off the floor to twirl her around, his face buried in the curve of her neck.

The Siren let out a melodic laugh as he set her feet back on the ground. A nearby older couple cooed sweetly.

“I remember when Cordella and I were as young and in love,” the gentleman said. He brought his wife's hand to his lips and kissed it. Cordella blushed and giggled, then swatted his chest.

It seemed the only thing that had changed was they were no longer physically young. Ichabod felt the Siren stiffen for a moment then she relaxed. When she spoke, her voice had a strange inflection to it.

“May your love span eternity,” the Siren purred. “May your hearts and bodies be as eternally youthful as your love.”

Ichabod wasn't sure if he was imagining it, but it almost seemed like the other couples ages melted away until they appeared to be no older than their forties. Colour returned to the woman's grey-streaked hair; wrinkles faded into fine, beautiful lines. The gentleman's wrinkles faded just the same, his head became filled with dark, salt and pepper hair.

The Siren pulled back and looked up at Ichabod. Her dark eyes were flecked with glowing gold. She reached up and cupped his face with one hand. 

“As timeless as our love,” she added, barely above a whisper. “My beloved Dumuzi…”

The golden glow faded and the Siren sagged against him, gasping for breath. He held her closer as she regained her senses. 

“What just happened?” he asked cautiously.

The Siren shook her head. 

“I don't know…” she replied softly.

Ichabod stroked her back until she nuzzled her face against his chest, her fingers curling into the material of his waistcoat. 

“Do you wish to return to the suite?”

The Siren shook her head. 

“Not yet,” she said, shaking her head. “Whatever it is… I think it's passed.” She gave him a faint smile. “I'm good. I promise. Let's just dance…” She rested her cheek on his chest again. “She loves to dance…”

“Who loves to dance?” Ichabod asked.

The Siren smiled up at him. 

“I do. Let's just dance, Ichabod. Let's just let us be Ichabod Crane and Abigail Mi--… Adams. Abigail Adams.”

Ichabod nodded lightly. “Your wish is my command.”

And they danced. For the better part of two hours. Until they were the only people that remained in the convention room. After the last couple walked out, the Siren looked up at him and stroked his chest.

“Let's go back to the room,” she said softly. 

Ichabod nodded lightly and walked over to the stereo system. He pushed a few buttons on the laptop hooked up to it to turn off the music. He closed the laptop, disconnected it from the stereo and tucked it under his arm.

When they reached the room, Ichabod set the laptop on the sofa and led the Siren to the bed. He sat upon the edge of the bed and carefully stripped his beloved down until she wore nothing but her own skin and her makeup.

“Would you like a moment to remove your makeup?”

She shook her head lightly as she tentatively pulled his tie loose and removed it from over his head. 

“It can wait,” she said softly. “Right now I just want _you_.” She closed her eyes and shook her head to clear it. “I just… I just want you to hold me. Is that alright?”

“Of course it is,” Ichabod replied.

Once he had been disrobed, they climbed into the bed. The Siren tucked herself into his embrace and he spooned himself up to her back, pulling her feet between his long legs. She settled in as the little spoon and sighed with contentment.

He nuzzled his face against the crown of her head and soon the two of them slept.


	3. Chapter 3

Abbie scrubbed her face until her nerve endings burned. She splashed her face with warm water and rubbed even more furiously. After blindly grabbing a towel, she patted her face dry and looked in the mirror.

Her reflection gave her a small smile. 

No. This wasn't her reflection. 

For one, she was naked. Her reflection was attired with a sparkling bedleh of transparent, dark blue silk, adorned with sparkling beads and gems in a rainbow of colours. Rings of gold were on every finger. Strands of gold hung from her neck, links ranging from small and thin to large and bulky, dazzled with gems and precious stones.

Her eyes were haloed gold. A golden crown sparkled atop her twisted locks. Several delicate chains spanned between the large hooped earrings and the small hoop in her nose. Her eyes were painted dramatically black. Her lips were stained purple.

She was… beautiful. But she brought fear to Abbie's heart. 

“Who are you,” Abbie whispered.

The reflection simply smiled, her eyes softening. 

“Perhaps, you should be asking yourself who _you are_ ,” the reflection said softly.

The reflection bowed her head, her hands taking prayer position in front of her. It was the first time Abbie noticed she had more than one set of hands.

“Who am I?” Abbie asked.

The reflection lifted her head, her golden eyes turned pitch black. 

“You are the Destroyer,” the image growled, baring sharp white teeth. She turned back into the golden-eyed woman. “You are the Creator.”

An image that looked like her, except older, a crow perched on her shoulder. 

“You are the crone that guards over the wisdom of life and death.

The image blurred and a younger woman took her place. 

“You are the maiden, carefree and full of love.”

Again the image blurred and a woman that looked exactly like Abbie took her place. 

“You are the holy mother, protector of innocents.”

The mirror turned black and a tiny flicker of a flame ignited. A soft, trembling voice came from the depths of the Abyss. 

“You are the darkness. The keeper of the Spark of Life.”

A figure emerged from the darkness, cradling the flame in her hands. Like the others, she looked like Abbie. Her dark eyes were wide and tearful. She looked angry, she looked tired, she looked terrified, she looked brave.

Abbie reached out and touched the reflection. 

“You are the Alpha and the Omega,” the image whispered, her voice trembling. 

“Who is, who was, and who will be the Almighty,” Abbie whispered along with the image.

The reflection set the flame in Abbie's hands. Abbie shivered as she studied the flame. Then suddenly she saw herself surrounded by fire. Her gaze was stern and fixed as she stared at herself. The flames whirled around her, caressing her like the touch of a gentle lover.

As she stood there, her eyes suddenly turned pitch black. Abbie could feel fury rushing through her veins and the world seemed to tremble.

Abbie gasped and thrust the flame back into the hands of the reflection. 

“No!” The flames disappeared and the reflection cradled the flame close to her chest. “Find someone else,” Abbie croaked.

“There is no one else, Abbie,” the reflection whispered. “There may be many capable of being the Witness. But only you alone can protect the flame. Only you can use it as intended.”

Abbie shook her head. 

“I don't want it,” she said, her voice heavy.

“You will change your mind one day,” the image said softly and faded away.

For several minutes, after the images all disappeared, Abbie stood there staring at her own reflection. It had been strange, earlier while dancing. It had been like something had shoved her own consciousness aside and taken control of her. But at the same time she had been aware. She could see what was happening, she knew what was happening. But she had been unable to do anything about it.

When the Captain had twirled her around, she had suddenly seen herself in a lavish temple of sorts, surrounded by women. The voice had emerged from the depths of her soul and whispered, _Dumuzi, my love._

Maybe she was just going crazy. Maybe all this end of the world, Apocalypse crap had finally made her snap. That was the only explanation. She had stopped it. Hadn't she? Well, technically the Captain had stopped it by killing his wife.

Was it possible someone else could have started it up again? Was that where all this crap was coming from?

She was going to be _so pissed_ if someone else was trying to restart the Apocalypse. She wanted to have a normal life. She wanted to see where this newfound _thing_ with the Captain was going to go.

Even if it went nowhere.

 _Seven tribulations_. She remembered the Captain reading those stupid tablets. Was that what was happening? Was all of this part of the seven tribulations? Had she just been suffering from wishful thinking that the suppression of Moloch meant the end of the Apocalypse? Were Moloch and company just one part of the bigger picture?

Fuck.

Her heart sank. She should have known better than to get her hopes up.

She looked down when she heard a soft snorting. A few seconds later, a sheet of paper slipped under the door with a crude crayon drawing on it. Abbie knelt down and picked it up. Then the drawing popped off of the paper and Boo landed in her arms, cuddling close to her.

“I'm okay, sweetie,” she said softly as Boo nudged her chin. She set Boo on the counter and squished his massive head between her tiny hands. “I guess in the long game, it's just you and me, huh?”

Boo wriggled his butt and snorted happily. 

“Let's go to bed, Boo.”

She opened the door and he leapt into the air, then crashed to the floor. Abbie shook her head as Boo recovered quickly and scampered through the suite, to the bed.

He hopped up and down trying to climb into the bed. Abbie chuckled and picked him up, settling him into the mattress. The Captain jerked awake at suddenly having a slobbering dragon eagerly licking his face.

“You found her,” he said sleepily. “I worried we had left her in Miami.” He wrestled Boo into his arms and stroked behind his larger eye. Boo made a weak swooning sound and went still except for his breathing.

The Captain closed his own eyes and fell back to sleep. Abbie slipped into bed and lay down, turning onto her side so she could watch the two sleeping. Tears stung her eyes.

_They could have been so happy._

Fucking Apocalypse.

  
#  


Thankfully, there was minimal damage from the storm. The eye had gone considerably offshore. So it was back to business for the city of Punta Cana.

The Siren walked several paces ahead of him, Boo hobbling along next to her. No one seemed to notice that it was a small dragon scampering alongside her. The few who did had looks that said they were convincing themselves it was just a strange-looking dog they saw and not a dragon.

The children, however, scampered along giggling when the Siren paused and Boo wagged her body enthusiastically in greeting. A few of them even got up the courage to pat her snout and were rewarded with a happy snort.

Occasionally, the Siren turned to make sure he was still following along. He'd see her eyes light up and then a cloudy storm would chase away the warmth.

Ichabod could sense something was wrong. That there had been since the night before.

Something heavy lay upon his Siren's mind. He had tried letting her know he was willing to share her burden. She needed but tell him what ailed her soul. But she had merely patted his hand and said she knew, and then insisted nothing was wrong.

The past few weeks she had been becoming more openly affectionate toward him. Of course she had days she would pull away and try to keep her distance. But this was different, somehow. 

She had lain in his arms until getting up to tend to things in the privy. Afterward she had seemed to completely pull away from any touches that were not initiated by herself.

He wished he had the courage to tell her he needed her to touch him. He needed to hold her close. He needed to comfort her. It was driving him mad, knowing she was hurting and he couldn't so much as hug her to him and comfort her.

Perhaps by the end of the day she would return to him. The days she had pulled away before, she generally started returning to him around sundown. He knew his beloved was leery of love and that he had to be patient, show her that he truly did care for her.

At lunch they found a little food stand and indulged in authentic local cuisine. The children that had been shadowing the Siren most of the morning tossed bits of chicken to Boo. When she merely sniffed it and sneezed at it, they tossed her bits of lettuce and bananas. Boo eagerly consumed them.

Ichabod reached across the table when the Siren's hand came to a rest atop the table. Before he could touch her, she pulled her hand into her lap. Ichabod sucked in a sharp breath and pulled his hand back to his side of the table.

Perhaps he had done something… No… no. He was not going to take that route. If he had done something she would tell him. She certainly never had issue with telling him when he had done something inappropriate or wrong before.

No… whatever was bothering her was something personal. She was the one feeling inadequate.

He gave her a faint smile. 

“Have I told you today how happy and fortunate I am to have you at my side during this journey?”

The Siren looked up at him. 

“Three times already,” she said quietly. Her gaze turned downward. “Look… I know what you're trying to do and--what the…”

Three children suddenly scampered up and thrust a bouquet of yellow and pink flowers into her arms. They beamed up at her expectantly. The Siren looked around, confused.  
“Where are your parents?” 

The tallest of the three stepped forward. 

“ _Le traímos flores a nuestra diosa_!” she proclaimed.

The Siren blinked in confusion. She looked at him. 

“I… I haven't spoken Spanish since high school…”

Ichabod himself blinked. 

“They said… We've brought flowers to our goddess.” He tilted his head slightly. “That is a very peculiar choice of words.”

The Siren looked away for a moment. 

“Yeah, sure, weird choice…”

“Whose goddess?” Ichabod asked curiously, in Spanish.

The girl pointed to herself and her friends, then indicated numerous young girls hovering nearby. 

“ _Nuestra_ ,” the girl replied. “ _La diosa de niñas. Ha vuelto para guardarnos del mal_.”

The Siren looked hesitant. 

“What are they saying?”

“That you are their goddess,” he said slowly. “A goddess for girls. That you have returned to keep them safe.”

A sigh of relief slipped from her lips. 

“To keep them safe,” she whispered. “The protector…”

She offered the girls a bright smile and gave them an awkward thank you. Ichabod wasn't certain what about their explanation had given her peace, but afterwards she was more than willing to let him take her hand and returned to being affectionate as before.

When they eventually returned to the suite, she lured him to the bed and an indeterminate amount of time later, Ichabod realized…

She was his goddess too.

 

**_ Epilogue _ **

_It had to be a fluke, she told herself over and over. It wasn't possible._

They had gone dancing again. Because one of the women in the mirror loved dancing. Abbie wasn't sure which one. But she revelled in dancing. She liked dancing with Ichabod to slow tunes. She liked dancing alone to thrumming beats.

But this last time…

Abbie's heart raced as she found a small club that appeared to be overrun by tourists. Ichabod was currently asleep in their hotel room. She stepped up to the club's doorman.

“ _Tá lleno_.”

Abbie felt the dancer snap. Her chin tilted up, she squared her shoulders. “Let me in,” Abbie ordered. 

The doorman sucked in a breath, an annoyed look on his face. Suddenly his face turned dazed, he blinked slowly and stepped aside. 

“Of course, my Lady.”

Abbie kept her poise powerful as she strode into the club. The dancer was gleeful as she walked through the club, the sea of people parting and watching her walk past as she made her way to the DJ.

At first, the young woman at the turntable seemed annoyed but then her expression softened. 

“Play something for me,” Abbie commanded.

“Of course, my Lady,” the DJ said softly.

Abbie made her way down the steps and to the dance floor. Once again, people parted to let her through. There were considerably more people in this place than had been in the one earlier. If her experiment worked, she wasn't sure what she would be doing. But she had to know… what was this strange entity in her head capable of? Could she control it? Or was it in control of her?

The DJ faded out the current tune and faded in with a new tune.

_Girls, we run this motha  
Girls, we run this motha…_

Abbie closed her eyes. _Is this what you want?_ she asked the voice inside of her. All she could hear was a gentle hum in the back of her head. ** _This is our power, the voice responded. This is our desire. You and I._**

Abbie's hips began to sway to to the music, followed by the rest of her body as the entity inside of her began to rise and stretch itself out into the tips of her fingers and toes and everywhere in between.

**_What is a goddess without devotees?_ **

She wasn't sure if she was asking herself or if it was the entity asking her. They were one now. 

**_Let them worship us._ **

The entity loved the tone and beat of the song and soon Abbie found herself moving without even thinking about it. 

_Who run this motha? Girls!_

When Abbie opened her eyes she saw herself in an ancient temple, surrounded by devotees, whirling and twirling around her. She danced her way through the throng of people, taking time to dance with each and every one. They were here to worship Her. They were here to adore Her.

They lifted her from the floor and they passed her over their heads. Her head thrown back in bliss as they softly chanted. 

<>Inanna. Beautiful Goddess. Inanna, protector of women. Inanna, protector of warriors. Inanna, Goddess of desire.

Their hands touched wherever they could.

_My persuasion can build a nation  
Endless power, with our love we can devour…_

Abbie felt a surge of energy from the depths of her soul. She was once again inside the club. The goers were whirling around her, as though she were the centre of the universe and they were merely helpless stars caught in her orbit.

**_They love you. Let them love you, Abbie. Let them adore you. Let them worship you._ **

Suddenly, standing before her was a woman who looked like her when she was in her early 20s. She was topless and wore a skirt of yellow, red, and dark blue. There were numerous gold adornments wrapped around her arms and hanging from her neck. Golden bells and jangles hung from a scarf at her hips. She smiled brightly and held out her hands.

“Dance with me, sister,” she laughed. 

Abbie wasn't sure what the others could see, or if they were even aware of what was happening. They had paired themselves up with the closest person and were gyrating and dancing to the music.

Abbie took her hands. Her and the younger her danced together, holding each other close and intimately as they moved. When the song was done the younger her cupped Abbie's cheek.

“You are beautiful and powerful, my sister,” she whispered, her voice heavily accented. “But you have nothing to fear. You are in control.”

The other one disappeared in an explosion of shimmering gold. When Abbie made a mad grab at her, the shimmering gathered to her fingertips then absorbed into her skin.

Abbie blinked slowly. _She was in control_. Her soul seemed to rejoice. So she danced. She danced and she danced and the people danced with her until the early hours of dawn.

She let herself into the hotel room and tiptoed to the bed. The Captain was still sleeping peacefully, Boo tucked between his knees on top of the bed coverings.

Abbie leaned close to Boo and whispered. 

“Go play, Boo.”

The dragon blinked at her and snorted softly but scampered to the end of the bed and leapt off to go find his toys. The Captain stirred slightly. Abbie stroked a hand down his chest and below the sheets draped over his hips.

“Ichabod,” she whispered hotly near his ear.

He jerked awake. 

“Good morrow to you too,” he murmured, fully aware of her.

She didn't even ask him to love her, he immediately set to doing so without any prompting.


End file.
